


Ironstrange Oneshots & Drabbles

by Hime_Ethiosia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:10:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hime_Ethiosia/pseuds/Hime_Ethiosia
Summary: Ironstrange oneshots & drabbles-- these will also be posted on my Tumblr account @golden-promptsUnedited until said edited & works range from short to long-R





	Ironstrange Oneshots & Drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst.

He was falling again--retrogressing into a previous state he'd tried so hard to grasp his way out of. He'd thought he'd finally crawled out of that hole, walked far enough away to never fall back into it again.

And yet here he was now, falling, trying to drink away the pain, the ache in his chest he had just had enough of, trying to replace that pain with more pain as he punched the wall, just letting an empty bottle plummet to the ground and shatter into thousands of tiny shards and pieces. Fragments that would never be able to be put wholly together to form what it once was, just as he, himself, was. 

The thought of just being left there to die by a man he trusted and once loved--it was too much Tony to bare. He couldn't handle it.

No matter what he did, though, he couldn't forget what Steve had done to him. Just the thought of remembering it--the feeling gripped his chest, his heart, and he took another swig from the glass.

Days blurred in and out, memories became foggy--he knew the kid was concerned for him, Peter, and he seemed to be spending less and less time in the tower. That easily slipped his mind, relieving the pain and trying to forget it cared more at this point than anything else.

And then Stephen came into his life--beautiful, wonderful Stephen. He brought solace, calm, peace, tranquility, a stable ground. Things Tony had been lacking for so long, too long. With him, Tony got better, he had less fits of drinking, less panic attacks, less anxiety attacks. When he did, Stephen was there--the sorcerer would slowly take the bottle from his hands, softly kiss the billionaire’s forehead and lead him to bed, never once caring about Tony's pale face or bloodshot eyes. Every time Tony would feel like he couldn't breathe during an attack, or feel like he was about to faint, Stephen was there, hugging him, reminding the man where he was, that he was safe, that he could breathe, that it was okay to cry. Always, always, always.

Peter was glad Tony was finally getting better, glad that the inventor finally had someone who was truly caring for him and doing the best they could and providing the best they could. He had missed the days when Tony was his bright, witty and sarcastic self, the man who'd help with his homework every day. Those times, such days, they seemed closer than ever now. Stephen seemed perfect, just what Tony needed in his life to make everything better.

And then came the day when he wasn't perfect.

It had been one of Tony's lapses--Peter was there, and he called Stephen, who immediately portaled his way to the tower to help. But, no, it wasn't that moment that showed that the sorcerer himself was flawed and that his life wasn't out perfectly together. It was after, in the late evening, during the two men’s conversation.

Stephen, completely open and vulnerable, with gentle caring eyes trained on Tony, uttered, “I love you.”

Tony had his eyes trained elsewhere, and responded, “I know.”

The next time Peter called Stephen over, the day after the conversation, the man arrived with bloodshot eyes. Traces of the smell of alcohol lingered on the male as he made his way towards Tony, his movements mechanical, the care he'd once held in his movements seeping down into a void. 

Stephen, too, hurt, and had his own pains, his own sorrows, his own demons. He still came to help Tony, but, even so, his visits dwindled down. Down until he stopped coming all together.

And Tony was left again, that tranquility gone, no more stability to make sure he stayed outside that hole.

So then he fell.


End file.
